Pedro Pascal has already proven himself a consummate actor—from the charming Din Djarin in The Mandalorian to complex characters in Game of Thrones and The Last of Us. In Materialists, he plays Harry—a wealthy, polished suitor whose outward perfection conceals emotional emptiness .

Pascal masterfully treads the line between reliability and aloofness, painting Harry as a well-intentioned man grappling with insecurity. He becomes the personification of modern success: impressive on the surface, but grappling with loneliness beneath.

🎥 Why he's compelling:

• He deepens his dramatic range with nuanced roles.
• Challenges stereotypes by showing that ideal facades can mask profound complexity.
• Continues his shift from action to emotionally layered performances.

Materialists unfolds in the heart of Manhattan’s glossy social scene — a world of curated lives, glass towers, designer everything, and relationships built as much on perception as on intimacy. At the center of this world is Harry, portrayed by Pedro Pascal in one of his most quietly devastating performances to date. A man of effortless charm and financial ease, Harry navigates elite circles with practiced grace. He knows how to say the right thing, wear the right clothes, and be the person others expect him to be. But beneath the tailored suits and quiet dinners, there’s a man in search of something he can’t buy: real connection.

The film, written and directed by Celine Song (Past Lives), explores the modern romantic dilemma: what happens when emotional depth is out of sync with social performance? Harry isn’t a villain or a manipulator — he’s someone who has built his identity around being wanted but never truly known. His relationships feel like business transactions, often cordial, rarely intimate. His vulnerability, when it emerges, is not theatrical but unsettlingly honest — a quiet admission that he doesn’t know how to be fully seen without the armor of his success.

As the narrative unfolds, we watch Harry’s relationship with a younger artist named Grace — played by Ayo Edebiri — become the axis on which his carefully structured world begins to tilt. Grace comes from a background untouched by generational wealth and is deeply committed to authenticity. Where Harry operates in polished restraint, Grace is messy, unpredictable, and emotionally open. Their dynamic becomes both magnetic and volatile: attraction complicated by misaligned values and unspoken fears.

Pascal plays Harry not as a man in crisis, but as a man quietly aware that something is missing. In one of the film’s most affecting moments, he hosts a dinner party filled with laughter, wine, and artful conversation — only to stand alone afterward in a dimly lit kitchen, listening to the silence. That emptiness isn’t just situational; it’s existential.

The cinematography mirrors Harry’s internal struggle — wide, clean compositions give the illusion of stability, but shadows creep in at the edges. Pascal’s performance is often defined by restraint: a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, a hand that lingers too long on a wine glass, the silence between spoken lines. He embodies a character who is not tragic in the traditional sense, but quietly, modernly lost.

Materialists is a film not about romance, but about the illusion of fulfillment — what happens when we pursue the life we’re told to want, only to discover it doesn’t fit. Harry represents a generation of men taught to provide, impress, and lead, but not necessarily to connect. Pascal’s portrayal digs into this space with intelligence and sensitivity, offering no easy answers — only a portrait of someone trying, failing, and trying again.

As Pedro Pascal continues his evolution from genre icon to layered dramatic actor, Materialists serves as a pivotal moment. It's a story that doesn’t rely on spectacle or archetypes but instead leans into subtlety, complexity, and contradiction. And in doing so, Pascal reminds audiences why he remains one of the most compelling actors of his generation: he doesn’t just perform roles — he inhabits people.